Black and Red
by KatHarkness-Katara
Summary: Red Robin is caught in an explosion and finds himself in Gotham- but not his Gotham. What does he do now? No slash, rated for language and violent themes in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Bat's Away, Bird Can't Play

**AN: This is set shortly after Batman: The Dark Knight. Batman hasn't been seen since the death of Harvey Dent, and the Dent act is still in the process of being passed. Bruce Wayne is still a public figure as CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Gordon is Commissioner of the GCPD, but his wife hasn't left yet.**

**This loosely ties into my Wayne's Boys work. On that side, it's about a month before the first chapter of Family Ties. The familial relationships stand as follows: Bruce/Batman has returned to his position in Gotham, Dick has gone back to being Nightwing, Jason/Red Hood has come home, Damian is Robin, Barbara/Batgirl has regained mobility following surgery and is dating Dick, Stephanie/Spoiler gave up Batgirl for Barbara and is dating Tim, and Cassandra/Black Bat is spending some time away in Hong Kong. Tim/Red Robin is spending his summer half in Gotham with his family, and half in San Francisco with the Teen Titans.**

**Black and Red Chapter 1: Bat's Away, Bird Can't Play**

Red Robin was falling, down, down, down. It was too narrow to spread his wings, his grapple too far from his fingers, and so he grasped at the protruding fire escapes. After failing to keep hold of three, he finally arrested his descent, wrenching his shoulders as he hung off one steel railing, waiting a moment before dropping the remaining dozen feet to the ground.

Right into a group of angry armed thugs.

He went straight into a combat stance, watching the somewhat bewildered petty baddies for the merest moment as three thugs brought the barrels of their guns to bear, and two others flicked out switchblades. His right hand dived into his belt for his staff, the left pulling out one batarang after another, deftly flicking them into the men's gun-hands while his staff swished left, then right, knocking down the knife men. Using the staff as pole, he vaulted over the disarmed thugs, kicked their feet from under them from behind, and put them out for the count. A quick glance assessed his opponents as completely unconscious, and no further threats nearby.

Red Robin relaxed slightly, the immediate danger over. He glanced around, taking stock. Somehow, the explosion had thrown him to a different part of San Francisco, some sort of teleport? The nausea coiled in his stomach certainly backed it up. Resting a hand against the alley wall, he massaged his brow beneath his mask, a blinding headache joining the list of symptoms.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps. At the end of the passage, two uniformed cops appeared, obviously following the sound of the scuffle. A small smile coming automatically to his lips as he noticed the GCPD patches on their uniforms (all the way home to Gotham? Could be worse…), he started to slip peacefully into the shadows.

His smile vanished into wide-eyed shock as the policemen drew their sidearms on him, not reacting fast enough to avoid the first bullet sinking into his side, merely slowed by the layers of Kevlar and smart polymers. He dropped, dodging the next, and sprang up, hopping from one landing to the next on the fire escape he so recently fell past. He heard the cops running up the metal staircases, coming for him. _'What the hell happened?'_ he thought.

Eventually he made it to the roof, running to the edge as his pursuers burst onto the roof behind him. "Freeze!" one yelled. Red Robin turned, keeping his balance on the verge as he faced the men. "You another Bat-wannabe, huh?" the man asked. "We're not taking any copies of that freak, and, well, we'll get him eventually. And you? You're under arrest for suspicion of involvement in the murder of Harvey Dent."

The older of the cops had been advancing all the time his partner spoke, but when the last sentence sounded, Red Robin pivoted and threw himself off the edge of the twelve storey building. He flung his arms out, activating the wings, and flew up. He heard the cops cursing, and another bullet thudded into his shoulder from behind. He lost control for a moment, his arm curling in and unbalancing the wings before he straightened out again, resisting the pain.

He continued up, trying to get his bearings. There was Wayne Tower; but if "the Bat" was wanted for Dent's murder (had Two-Face gone too far? Or was it an accident?), then going to his doorstep while possibly being followed would not be appreciated. He checked his comm, finding only static. The journey had wrecked it. But he really needed somewhere safe to retreat and treat his injuries. There didn't seem to be anywhere he could go without risking his family until he knew his tail was shaken.

His eyes picked out another landmark: the GCPD headquarters. He tilted his wings, descending towards it. He could summon aid from there, and then find out what happened since he was last in Gotham, only two days ago.

He drifted down, landing lightly despite the wounds in his side and shoulder. He stepped over to the signal, and was bending to switch it on, when he noticed what was wrong.

The signal had been smashed in, the glass shattered and the black bat in fragments. "What happened?" Red Robin murmured, dropping to his knees. He picked up some of the pieces, trying to see how they fit together, wondering if he could repair it. The bulb seemed intact, but the screen, to shine the illumination, was broken beyond his means to repair. Perhaps he could improvise something?

He heard footsteps behind him, and rose, turning. "Commissioner Gordon?" he said quietly, hoping his friend wouldn't prove a foe. "Sir, what happened?"

Gordon didn't answer. Red Robin felt another twinge in his side, the bullet shifting inside him. He bit back a wince, putting a hand to check how much fresh blood was flowing. Gordon noticed the action. "You hurt, young man?" he said gruffly.

"Just a few bullets," Red Robin muttered, embarrassed at showing weakness in front of Gordon, and slightly irritated that it was his men that had caused the injuries.

"Bullets?" Gordon seemed…unusually concerned. "You pick those up working with Batman or something?"

"Of course I work with Batman. How long have you known me, Gordon?"

"First time I've seen you, son."

"What?" Red Robin stared at him, not bothering to hide his shock. "But how?" He thought back, quickly evaluating the last few hours, from leaving the Tower to reaching the GCPD Headquarters. "The teleporter," he muttered to himself. "Time? No, the signal was unplugged once or twice, but never smashed. Dimensional? Must have been. Great."

"Son, what are you on about?" Gordon clearly hadn't followed him.

"Okay, this is gonna sound pretty crazy…" he started. "But near as I can guess, I've managed to travel between dimensions. Back home, I'm a partner of Batman, have been for several years. My name's Red Robin."

Gordon nodded. "This isn't the best place for someone claiming allegiance with Batman. I won't tell anyone you were here, but you might want to leave."

Red Robin bit his lip, trying to think. It would be easy if he saw Batman; he'd easily be able to tell if he really was Bruce. It didn't sit right to just show up at the tower or the manor, especially if it turned out Batman's identity wasn't constant. He needed to get more information first. A library?

Gordon picked up on the uncertainty the boy was showing. "You don't have anywhere to go, do you?" he murmured.

Red Robin looked up, quickly shook his head, and looked away. The bullet wounds still hurt like hell, his stomach was still doing backflips and head pounding from the transport, even his shoulders burned from slowing his earlier tumble. He desperately wanted to go home, either to his scarcely used Gotham city apartment, his room in Titans Tower or Wayne Manor. But he couldn't…

Gordon narrowed his eyes. Reading the emotion in his stance, he seemed to be pitying him, and concerned, and worried, but for more than just a wounded vigilante boy. Probably his men. "My office is on the top floor. Window's over there." He gestured to a patch of the roof. "I'll open it in a few minutes. We'll see what we can do."

"Thank you," Red Robin said, watching as Gordon re-entered the building. He prepped his grapple, and waited for his entrance to open.

'_What do I do now?'_ he thought, acutely aware how far he was from home.


	2. Chapter 2 Revealing More Than is Desired

**Black and Red Chapter 2: Revealing More Than Is Desired**

Jim Gordon watched the teenage boy, his emotional response flipping from disbelief that a child would work with the Bat, to fear that the boy's presence in his office would hurt either his men or the kid himself, to amazement that he could just sit there quietly after apparently being thrown from another world, and then digging around in his own side with a pair of tweezers to pull out a bullet.

"Might be easier if you took your shirt off," Gordon suggested gently. The boy's hand froze, then he removed the tweezers and dropped them into the med kit he'd taken from his belt.

"Don't make any comments," he whispered, before systematically removing the straps on his wing, the thin utility straps on his upper arms and his gloves. He fiddled with his collar for a moment, then pulled open his shirt and slipped it off.

Gordon hissed slightly, restraining himself from disregarding Red Robin's request and giving the boy an earful. He'd thought maybe he had some tattoos that he didn't want to be identified from. He wore a simple chain with some little trinkets hanging from it, true, but that clearly wasn't what he was referring to. Instead, his arms and torso were criss-crossed with scars, some standing out clearly, others much easier to miss. More worrying, the hole in his side was joined by a thick smear of blood over the back of his left shoulder blade.

The masked eyes looked at him, so different from the Bat's cowl. A faint smirk flitted over the youngster's lips. "Yeah, I've taken a hit or two," he said ruefully. "Couple o' bullets isn't much." He picked up the tweezers again, and quickly pulled the bullet out of his side. He glanced around, then nodded at a metal waste bin. "Using that?" he asked.

Gordon shook his head, and Red tossed the bullet in before grabbing a wad of material and bottle of antiseptic from his med kit. "How'd you get them all?" Gordon asked.

"They accumulate. Bullet I didn't quite dodge here, knife past my defences there, a few bombs, Croc, some hyenas, bit of acid. It all adds up." He finished disinfecting the wound, tossed the wad into the bin after the bullet, and threaded a needle.

"And you just patch yourself up every time?"

Another quick half-smile. "No, normally I have a little help. Guy I know who trained in combat medicine." Gordon almost asked for more information, but Red cut him off. "It's not like we can just pop into hospital every other day with a few fresh lacerations. Seriously. We've had enough problems with Child Protection just from what our teachers see."

"'Our'? There's more than one kid running around after Batman?" Gordon stared at him, shocked beyond words. What kind of Gotham was this kid from, if they had children working for their Bat? One, an aberration, that he could see, but _more_? The boy grimaced; either from the pain of tying off his stitches or from his slip-up. He slapped a gauze patch on and wrapped a bandage around his middle before answering. "Yeah, there's several of us." He picked up the tweezers again, and craned his head round to look at the hole in his shoulder. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

"Let me," Gordon said, moving around his desk and taking the tweezers. The kid flexed his arm, pulling the muscle taut and allowing him to see the bullet nestled beneath a few layers of skin and flesh. "How'd you get shot?"

"I think you'll find out soon enough." The bullet out, Red passed a fresh piece of anti-septic soaked material, not even gasping as Gordon's inexperienced hand pressed what must have been too hard. "My turn now. How many people like Batman are there in this world?"

"Well, depends on what you mean by 'like Batman'. There's no-one else I'd consider to be on our side. Mind you, even Batman isn't supposed to be on our side any more. But there's this other guy, Joker, who's got the same flair for dramatics, except he just seems to like killing."

"I know Joker." The boy's voice was stiff and steely. It didn't take a genius to guess that he'd had trouble with the Joker of his world. "Would you mind suturing that? Thanks. Anyone like Joker?"

"There was Jonathan Crane. He went insane, started dressing as a scarecrow and using-"

"A gas that provoked great fear in his victims."

"Run into that?"

"Several times. Not fun. What does your Crane's gas do? Hallucinations?"

"Not really. Apparently it distorts reality and induces a panic attack."

Red winced. "Actually, that sounds like one of his milder brews."

They stayed silent as Gordon finished the stitches, wrapped the wound as the kid had done to his side, and wiped the blood off his fingers. Red pulled his shirt back on, slid the med kit back into its pouch on his belt and cleaned the sticky red coating from his gloves and shirt. "Where are Joker and Scarecrow now?" he asked, gathering the remaining evidence of his patching-up into the waste bin.

"Well, Crane's completely insane. Can barely remember his own name most days. He's in a secure facility. If he ever regains his sanity, he'll be tried to determine if he was culpable for his actions, but the psychiatrist doesn't think that'll be any time soon. Joker's also locked up. We can't identify him, can't work out if he's insane or not, can't work out if he's even aware of his current situation. Until we do, we can't really give him a fair trial."

"Hmm." Red finished strapping his equipment back in place, picked up the waste bin, and put it on the fire escape outside the window. He pulled a small pellet from his right arm strap and dropped it into the bin. A sudden flare of flames appeared, and quickly died down again, leaving the bin smoking. "What's the facility called?" he asked.

"Arkham Asylum." Gordon was about to ask what the boy knew of Joker and Scarecrow, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. The kid quickly flipped out the window and vanished, a slender red and black clad arm pulling it shut behind him. "Come in," Gordon said.

Two low-rank officers, Pike and Thorpe came in. "Sir," the older, Thorpe, said. "This evening we noticed a disturbance while patrolling. Upon investigation, it transpired that five gangbangers had been taken down by a masked individual. This individual was still on the scene. He appeared to be in league with the Batman. We attempted to take him in for questioning, but he fled the scene."

Suspicion started to grow in Gordon's mind. "What did this individual look like?" he asked.

"Male, early to mid-teens," Pike said. "Wore red and black, yellow chest harness, grey belt, sort of wings on his back. Domino mask, no cowl. Black hair."

Now almost certain he knew how his guest got the bullet wounds, Gordon asked, "How did you attempt to take him in for questioning?"

"Well." Thorpe looked rather shifty. "We've been advised to use maximum force to bring in the Bat, so we fired a few warning shots. The suspect escaped to the roof, and when we tried to corner him, he jumped off and sort of flew. We fired a few more warning shots, but he got away."

"I see." There was no way to prove that the so-called "warning shots" hadn't missed, but he'd heard the grumblings from below about how much they hated Batman. "How long ago was this?"

"Uh, maybe half an hour? We tried to find him, but we couldn't."

"Do you have any proof that the suspect was involved in the Dent murder?"

Pike shrugged. "He looked like an imitator, but with the equipment he's packing, I'd say he's with the Bat. The Dent murder's probably best to get him in for questioning."

Gordon sighed, unable to upbraid his over-zealous underlings without revealing his new friend. "Very well. I expect a full report in the morning." The cops nodded, and filed out.

As the door closed behind them, the faintest of rattles came from the window. Gordon turned to find it once again slid up and open, and Red Robin standing inside.

"The Dent murder," he said. "Tell me everything. I need to know."

Gordon gestured to the seat opposite, and sighed. It was fair request, given the circumstances. "Harvey Dent was the DA. The three of us were working together; me, Dent, the Bat. Then Joker showed up. Dent ended up badly injured, half his face burnt off and his girlfriend dead. Joker attacked the hospital he was in, and the next thing we have on record, he was dead. Snapped neck. Batman was seen running from the scene. Dent died a hero, Batman the villain. We're passing an act in Dent's honor to crack down on all forms of crime. And the signal on the roof…"

"Is smashed. I saw." Red Robin leaned back in the chair, his hidden eyes strangely piercing. "What really happened?"

Gordon sighed again. The boy was too perceptive. Or maybe he had known the Dent of his world. "Dent went mad. Started calling himself Two-Face. Dispensing life and death at the toss of a coin. He had my family; my wife, my girl, my little boy. He decided that since I couldn't save his family, he'd let chance decide the fate of mine. Batman stopped him, but he died. Then we blamed it on him, so Dent could be remembered as a hero."

"I see." Red's voice was totally emotionless. Impossible to tell what he was thinking. Impossible to tell if he blamed Gordon for the over-zealous cops.

"But do you understand? Dent was the best of us. If it became known what he did, the dozens of crooks he put away would have been let out. But glorifying the monster who tried to kill my family…"

"Is one of the hardest thing you could imagine doing. I can tell. And yes, I understand."

"You knew Dent? Did it…go badly for you too?"

"Could say that." Another wisp of a smile. "He's given me a few of those scars. See, he survived the clash with Batman, and ended up in Arkham."

"After he wounded you?"

"And before. Arkham Asylum's supposed to be the most secure place on the planet, but it's one of the most dangerous outside the mouth of an erupting volcano. And, of course, it has the most efficient revolving door in Gotham." He sounded bitter. No wonder, if Dent had hurt him after escaping.

"Are you telling me Arkham isn't secure?" Gordon asked, dreading trying to find somewhere better to put Joker.

"I'm not really sure." He looked a little sheepish. "Our Arkham is pretty full. Full of the most dangerous loons and crazies you could imagine. If yours has only a few, you might get away with it, if you're careful."

"I'll take that under advisement." He sighed, feeling like he'd been doing a lot of that in the last hour. If any more like Joker, Dent and Crane turned up, they might have to get a new facility. If someone could secure the funds. "Anything else you wanted?"

"Do you have any photographs, any video, of Batman?"

"Some. I'd have to fetch it. Why do you want it?"

"Let's call it a hunch."

Gordon wondered what kind of hunch would need pictures of the Bat, but hurried off anyway. He was really feeling sorry for the boy. If the scars hadn't been enough to convince him the lad had difficulties, the bit about Arkham was. The words had shocked him, but it was more the fact he'd said it straight out, as though everyone knew about it. And now it seemed painfully obvious just how different the worlds were. The kid had nowhere to turn; not while his partner was wanted for murder.

When he got back with the pictures, he saw Red Robin had slipped around the desk and was engrossed with something on the computer. Something he appeared to close abruptly when Gordon stepped through the door. He rose, taking the sheaf of papers and nodding his thanks. He flipped through them, nodded to himself and murmured, "Yeah, it's him alright."

"You can tell who that is?!"

Another sheepish look. "I'm used to it. You know, working with him for years. We just know each other."

Gordon noticed that the kid kept referring absently to his past (and exactly how young had he been when he started?) with Batman, his and others'. He couldn't even tell, until it was picked up on. Probably best leave the matter alone. "What were you doing on the computer?"

"Looking up a few things."

"Like what?"

Red sighed. "I was tracking down my counterpart. Turns out that's another difference."

"You don't exist in this world?"

"I do." He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it even more ruffled. "It's just I'm three years old. Bit awkward."

"Hmm." Gordon watched the teen carefully, an idea forming in his mind. "Just how old are you, son? If I had to guess I'd say thirteen."

"Fourteen, actually. I'm just small for my age. Always have been."

"And you don't have anywhere to go?"

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself."

"You're still a child."

The boy seemed completely taken aback by the sudden line of questioning. "What are you proposing? Send me to some children's home until I can find a way back to my own reality?"

"No. Something tells me that would be a very bad idea." A slight twitch gave the impression one unseen eyebrow was being raised. "You said your counterpart is a toddler. So you don't really need to hide your face. I'm guessing you can come up with a name other than 'Red Robin', even if it's not the one on your birth certificate. And I think the wife would be fine with me bringing home a houseguest. She's always saying I don't have any contact with the normal people anymore."

Red stared at him, completely blank. Considering. Then he reached up and peeled of the mask from his face, revealing clear sky-blue eyes. "Rob Jackson. Thanks. You have no idea how glad I am right now."


	3. Chapter 3: Meditations

**Black and Red Chapter Three Meditations**

Tim sat cross-legged on the bed, meditating. While he was sore and disorientated, it was still too early for bed, scarcely midnight. Instead, he carefully dissected and analysed the apparent differences between worlds.

The Gordons. In his world, Barbara Senior had left the Commissioner, taking Jim Junior, before the adoption of Babs, the Commissioner's niece by birth. Here, both Babs and Jim Junior were being raised by both Gordons. Although, from Barbara Senior's body language and suppressed irritation, there may be storm in their marriage coming.

Babs seemed…exactly like Dick had described her at this age. Sharp, seemingly quiet, but with a hidden fire. If Tim had to guess, her brush with Two-Face (Dent, whoever) had not so much terrified her as thrilled her. But no-one else seemed to realise that, she'd been keeping quiet, yet still unable to suppress the signs of having felt truly alive when faced with death. Tim could read it easily; after all, they all experienced that kind of thrill to one degree or another, and Babs back home more than most. This Babs had the same nature.

It would be interesting to see how she'd turn out with a little training. Warming her up with a little gymnastics and acrobatics, then perhaps moving her onto some basic martial arts moves. Suggesting classes might work, but none of the Bats practised any sort of pure martial arts. The mixed style, borrowing from everything, was so much safer and more efficient. But it would be a good start, teach her the basics…

No, that wouldn't be fair, shaping her life without explaining why; and just because she _could_ be as excellent as Batgirl didn't mean she _should_ be.

On the other hand, having an _Oracle_ would be useful if he was stuck for some time. And less potentially destructive than Batgirl.

Little Babs could be most useful.

Tim caught himself; he was thinking of people as tools again. Bruce had been accused of it a time or two, and now he could see how easy it was, especially when he was used to thinking of them as allies he could call on at need.

He thought of his own Batman, Bruce. They'd had an argument a few days ago, a stupid, meaningless disagreement. Damian had caught a stomach bug, and so Bruce had called Tim in to take the younger boy's place in a stakeout. Tim had been forced to delay going across country to Titan Tower in San Francisco by six hours. In that time, a gang had gone on a robbery spree in the jewellery district, stealing millions of dollars of goods and causing tens of thousands in property damage. When the Titans engaged them, it transpired they were very well-prepared, and got away, leaving Wonder Girl tracking them until she lost them, and Superboy using his TTK to hold Kid Flash's broken leg in place until his super-fast healing fixed it. Worried for his teammates, Tim had ended up yelling at Bruce that he didn't care for anything outside his own bubble. Bruce had got coldly furious, saying that it wasn't _his_ fault the Titans couldn't cope with street-crime on their own.

It had ended when Tim just grabbed his bag and left, teleporting to the Tower. Now he was feeling guilty, because it _was_ a fairly stupid argument, prompted more by frustration than anything else. And if he couldn't get home and apologise, he'd regret it.

No. Focus. He _would_ find some way home.

Bruce. Could this world's Batman help him? _Would_ he? If his Bruce was faced by some teen claiming to be his partner from another world, his paranoia would come to the fore. Nothing would get done until Bruce was sure the interloper wasn't a threat. There was no reason to suspect this Bruce wouldn't be different.

He could try accessing WayneTech's records, see what he could find in the R&D department. Try finding a solution on his own. He knew more about the theory of interworld travel than some, and maybe with a bit of hacking could get the company's people running some variance tests on background radiation and some other non-constants.

Bruce might pick up on that. Hmm.

But how similar _was_ this Batman? He seemed to have quit after the Dent/Two-Face thing. His Bruce would never give up. How had this Bat been pushed away from the Mission? More research would be needed. Probably before he plundered WE's databases. Starting with the gossip/news sources. If the media had noted a change in Bruce Wayne's life dating from the same time as the incident with Dent, that might explain it. The lives of 'Bruce Wayne' and 'Batman' were more interlinked than many in their community would realise; reading between the lines of news reports of Brucie's 'accidents' could give quite an insight into the stresses of the night life.

But how many…incidents…in the Wayne family back home never made it to the media; or else were twisted beyond recognition?

A sigh escaped his lips, the downward movement of his ribcage tugging at the stitched wound on his shoulder. He bit his lip at the flair of pain, and pushed it aside, sinking back into the trance-like state.

Consulting Bruce would have to wait; his probable paranoia and obvious personal issues would make working with him difficult and potentially dangerous.

So what would be his next move? What was his position now? The Commissioner had told his wife Tim was waiting to go into witness protection, and so details of his life were not open for discussion. He would probably be following Gordon to work the next day, and that could at least provide some entertainment in cribbing files and borrowing the computer to get some research.

But exactly what would he need to research; in what order of priority?

First, the formal reports for the incidents with Scarecrow, Joker and Two-Face. The file on Batman. And if he could get on the computer, what Bruce Wayne had been up to. Tomorrow night, he could slip out, break into the library and continue his research.

Should he try and find his brothers? It was tempting; so very tempting. With the age difference between the worlds, Dick would probably still be with the circus, and Haly's might be approaching their Gotham run. But if they'd already been through town, and lost their star act…

No, he'd rather not know. This wasn't a chance to do things over; this wasn't similar enough for that. It would just lead to heartbreak. If he knew where his family were, he would be so hard-pressed to interfere, and if he did, without a thorough understanding of the consequences…

This wasn't his world to interfere with.

He rose from his meditation, breathing unnaturally heavily. The thought of finding Dick dead with his parents, Jason left on the streets to fall into thievery and drug addiction, Cass running from the League of Assassins for the rest of her life, Damian never born (well, _that_ one didn't seem so bad), Steph never having the opportunity to be more than a petty thief's daughter…

He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to know.

He pulled out his staff, and settled into a ready stance. Feeling the pull on strained muscles and the pair of bullet wounds, he flowed from form to form, going through routines, silent as a shadow.

He'd need all his training just to stay sane until he could find a way home.

**AN: Sorry it's been a while. I will be updating more frequently. Since the last update, I have started a Batman/Avengers crossover entitled Little Bird's Vengeance. I will be tag-teaming updates of that with updates of this. I am also continuing with the Wayne's Boys series.**

**So, now you've read this new chapter (the previous two chapters have been edited as well, by the way), why not tell me what you thought of it? Please leave a review. If you have any questions, feel free to drop me a PM or leave a review.**

**Hoping to be back soon,**

**Katara**


	4. Chapter 4: Comparative Sociology

**Black and Red Chapter 4 Comparative Sociology**

When James Gordon reached his office in the GCPD HQ, the slight teen was already waiting for him, leaning against the metal fire escape, expression unreadable. He'd taken to the roofs a few blocks ago; it wouldn't do for the Police Commissioner to arrive with some boy with him. Gordon unlocked the window and slid it open, allowing him entry. Rob climbed through gracefully and padded over to the guest chair he'd patched himself up in last night. Gordon slid a thick file of papers over to him. "The Batman file," he explained. He gestured to several others sat on the desk. "Those are for Crane and Joker. We don't have one for Dent."

Rob nodded. "And those?" he asked, pointing to another stack.

"Those are mine. Just cold cases we distribute when it gets quiet. Don't worry about them," Gordon shrugged.

Rob nodded, opened the file, and started to read.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 0000000000000000000000

The morning passed slowly. Occasionally someone would knock and enter, sending the kid diving out the still-open window. After the third time that happened, Gordon couldn't resist saying how lucky he was it wasn't raining. Rob smiled sweetly and replied that yes, it was lucky, because otherwise the files would be ruined. Gordon shuddered at the thought. "Anything catch your attention?"

"Yeah. You've got listed all the incidents you believe Batman was involved in. There's three I think were actually imposters. You do have details for one here, and I believe he fits." His lips quirked as though in irritation, before he got his emotion under control.

"You don't approve of other Batmen?" Gordon asked, not surprised but interested to hear his reasoning.

Rob shook his head slightly. "You saw how much I've been injured over the past few years, and that's with the best equipment available, intensive training and highly skilled co-workers. What we do is dangerous. Seriously dangerous. Messing up is very easy, and could well get you or someone else killed." He grimaced slightly. "Addictive as hell, though."

"Addictive?"

"It's quite a thrill, skirting so close to death. Some people get scared off. Some thrive on it. You'd have to be at your best when under that sort of pressure, but you need more than just thrill-seeking." Gordon didn't understand and it must have showed. Rob sighed. "Look, there was this one time someone worked out how to activate the metagene and give people powers. You know, strength, speed, flight, shooting lightening from your eyes, whatever. A whole bunch of people got this done. Then there was an attack by a bunch of time-displaced pirates and cyborgs. It happens. But there were all these people, who thought power equalled ability. It was a massacre."

"Were you…involved?"

"No. It wasn't in Gotham. But that's why we keep a close eye on things. Our line of work requires training and dedication."

"Who decides if you're good enough?"

"We're all accountable to each other. Back home, some of the older guys- Batman and his peers- are authorized to sort of police our community."

"So you're not completely autonomous? You do have limits?"

"Yes and no. We mostly do our own things, individually, in groups, with a partner, it varies. But there are some things we know will not be permitted by our peers. Like killing and mutilation."

"I find it hard to believe a kid would be _permitted_ to follow Batman around."

Rob smirked. "And yet we're the ones with neutralization protocols," he muttered.

"What?"

"There's no official hierarchy in our community. But there are people we look to more than others. Batman's one of them. As one of his partners, that gives me a good standing. I lead the team of my age group."

"You have a team?"

"The Teen Titans. Leading isn't hard; I'm our strategist anyway. It's mostly organizing training and field command."

"Training again?"

"Of course. That's what our lives are. Time in the field, time in civilian ID, time training. Obviously I emphasise training more than a meta would."

"Metas are your people with powers? Are there many of those?"

"No more than a few hundred worldwide. But they are the majority of our community."

Gordon shook his head. "I don't think I understand. How do these…powers fit into your lifestyle? How do your metas do what Batman does?"

Rob pursed his lips and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling fingers. "In general, metas are more reactionary," he explained. "We tend to seek out crime rather than wait for something to respond to. It's sort of like the difference between a beat cop and a murder squad specialist. Does that make sense?"

"I'm not sure it does."

Rob sighed and ran his fingers through his hair; Gordon absently noted he was wearing his gloves. "It's hard to explain without a frame of reference," he admitted. "If metas ever turn up it'll probably make more sense."

"Is that likely?" The world's reaction to Batman had been extreme enough, but someone with powers?

"It's a possibility. I have no idea how likely."

Anything more he might have said was cut off by a knock on the door, swiftly followed by a quiet clunk of boots on metal. Gordon silently sighed, and bade his visitor enter.

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By the time noon rolled round, Rob had finished reading through the files, and cleared up quite a few issues. How he'd been able to tell there was some sort of league of assassins involved in the Scarecrow incident from a few blurry stills was a mystery; but the look on his face was enough to convince him not to pursue it.

When Gordon stepped out for lunch, he ended up taking an hour longer than he expected, being called to sign this, read that and assign personnel to the other. It shouldn't have been an issue; why should he expect a protégé of the Bat to make trouble?

So he was slightly surprised to re-enter the office and find Rob had taken over the computer, and was typing far too fast to merely browsing the net. The teen quickly cleared the screen before Gordon could see it and scurried out of the way. "Just can't keep away from computers, can you?" Gordon asked bemusedly.

"Yeah…" Rob muttered. "See you this evening?"

Before Gordon could reply, the boy vaulted out the window, lightly sprang down the fire escape, and disappeared off down the street.

Gordon shook his head and turned back to the computer, which had rebooted itself and brought up the work he'd been doing earlier. Then he noticed a file lying open. It was one of the cold cases. Here and there in the margins, a neat copperplate hand had written new notes; suggestions to look into a few things or compare this and that forensic evidence. On the last page, an underlined comment merely said "interrogate the wife; she did it".

Even in another world, the strange little Bat couldn't resist solving cases.

**AN: Thank you all you lovely people for reviewing! Keep up the good work now, eh? Please leave reviews for this chapter too, please. Any questions, about content, or anything else, feel free to ask in a review or PM.**

**Next week I'll be back to updating Little Bird's Vengeance, and over in the Wayne's Boys stories, I'm part way through the origin story of Dick Grayson in Flashback. Please feel free to read any of the stories on my profile. I'm particularly keen for feedback on my three-shot Miseries of the Hood, but I love hearing what people think of anything.**

**Back in a week or two.**

**Katara**


	5. Chapter 5: Computers

**Black and Red Chapter 5 Computers**

Tim tossed aside an empty casing, having found the motherboard burnt out and stripped out a few minor components. He put his finds in a ratty old backpack he'd found earlier, and picked up an old laptop. Scrapyards could be great places to find bust computers no-one would care if he took home, and the supervisor had given him free reign, as long as he didn't cart off _too_ much stuff, or get hurt.

He'd decided against trying to use public-access computers for the more delicate research, and not doing any at all during the day. So, while waiting for night, he was building his own.

Splitting open the laptop, he found the innards corroded, but the screen was perfectly serviceable, in excellent condition. Using the tools he kept for quick fixes on his wings and gadgets, he detached the screen and slid it into the bag. He just wanted to find a few motherboards, at least one still intact, and some more with salvageable transistors and capacitors and other components.

It was amazing what some people would throw away.

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'_On second thoughts, maybe it's amazing what I've learnt to do since coming under Bruce's tutelage,'_ Tim thought much later, carefully cutting free the pieces and transferring them to a less damaged board. He smiled to himself, thinking of long weekends in the cave, with Babs on the Cray mainframe teaching him the principles of computer technology. So absorbed was he in his task and memories, he only just heard the door creak open. Watching from the corner of his eye, his hand shot out and seized a wrist before it could meet his tech.

"Please don't touch that, Barbara," he murmured gently, releasing the girl's arm. "It's more delicate than it looks." He swivelled around to look at her, blue eyes smilingly meeting her sparkling, curious green.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking over the piles of pieces.

"Trying to build a better computer from scraps of old ones." He shifted the screen, leaving a space for Babs to sit in,

"Can you do that?" she asked, scrabbling over and looking over everything.

"Sure. An awful lot of what's thrown away is perfectly salvageable." As he picked up some wire and a pair of pliers, he remembered the WayneTech buy-back scheme he'd persuaded Bruce to trial, with mixed results- in the end, they'd agreed to continue it due to the imminent scarcity of the precious metals used in tiny quantities in pretty much everything. A few deft twists, and the board he'd been fiddling with was connected to the screen. Adding a battery pack, he tweaked it, and sent power flowing through the systems.

Babs gasped as the screen turned blue, activating. Tim chuckled wryly, and disconnected it again. "You see?" he said. "You just need to know what you're doing."

"How do you learn to build computers?"

He grinned. "I had a good teacher."

Babs leaned forward. "Can you teach me?"

Tim's smile grew. He'd wanted to teach her, but without manipulating her; and now she was volunteering to learn. Good. "Well, I suppose, but I think you might be better at programming rather than hardware."

"Programming?"

"Yup. _Very_ useful. And something tells me you have quite an aptitude for it."

Babs beamed with pride, but then her face dropped. "But what can you actually do with it?"

Tim set down the miniature welder he'd been tuning. "Well, I can make these bits and bobs into a pretty good computer. But with the right programming skills, you can do so much more with it. Near enough _anything_. For example, facial recognition software. Just think how much easier you dad's job would be if he could take a still from a security camera and cross-reference it against the Driver's Licence database." The mainframe back home could do that easily enough; it was very useful.

"Really? Okay then. What do I need to know?"

"Run off, get a notebook and pen, then come back," he told her. As she scrambled off, he kept going with his cobbling together, while mentally running through his long-ago lessons he now applied without really thinking.

Soon, soft and quick footfalls heralded Babs' return. With almost surprising grace, she dropped back into her space, and set the notebook on her knee and poised her pen over it.

"Take good notes, Barbara, and learn them. If I'm going too fast, ask me to slow down. Feel free to ask any questions you have."

"Yes, Rob," Babs said, looking thrilled.

"Very well. Computer programming is all about telling a computer what to do in such a way as it understands. Computers best understand binary, but it is very difficult to read and write. Most programmers use languages such as HTML and C++…"

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They continued through the evening, breaking for dinner, until the Commissioner finally called his daughter off to bed. But Tim called her back at the door. "Barbara, why are you so curious? You hardly know me, so why are you so eager to learn from me?"

"Because you _know_ things," she said, beaming.

"That the only reason?" Tim, familiar with the older Babs' 'tells', was fairly sure she was, not hiding something, but trying to avoid it.

Babs looked at the floor, worrying her lip. "You know I saw Batman a few months ago? The…thing, with Harvey Dent."

"Yes, I know. And, Barbara? I don't believe for one moment Batman killed him. I think it was a lot more complicated." Tim cocked his head, waiting to see the girl's reaction.

"Yeah, it was." Babs ducked her head and blushed slightly. "You remind me of him somehow. But less scary. You're like…a nice Batman. Don't know why. It's nice."

Tim chuckled quietly. He vaguely remembered Dick telling him that one of his first impressions of Babs when they were both in school was that she was sharp as can be and twice as perceptive. "Maybe I'll tell you a story about that one day," he told her. "But you might want to get off to bed before your dad calls again."

She nodded. "My friends call me Babs," she whispered.

Tim smiled. "Goodnight, Babs."

"Goodnight Rob."

As she slipped off to her own room, Tim mused on her little confession. It _was_ hard to hide Bat-like traits, especially from someone as bright as Babs- and he was most likely subconsciously dropping his guard around her anyway.

She'd listened well, asked relevant questions, and then…she'd specifically asked about the applications of her new skills.

Well. That was quite some progress.

Sunset soon enough. He could sneak out and get down to his research. He knew where the best library was, unless that had changed with the world-shift.

Maybe see if they had any books on computer languages…

**AN: So, another update. You like? You hate? You wanna know more 'cause you reckon I left something out? Don't keep it to yourself, share. Go on, please. There's this wonderful feature, called "review", that lets you do that.**

**Now, long term readers (especially over several of my fics) should probably know I have a reasonably consistent update schedule. To recap, every week I update one of my two Wayne's Boys, and one of my crossovers (this one and Little Bird's Vengeance). Now, for various reasons, I'm a little behind on Wayne's Boys chapters, and so I may not be able to update those ones as frequently as I'd like. However, on the weeks I can't update WB, I intend to update both this and LBV. So, while I intend it to be three weeks before I next update this, it may be sooner. I'm aware that some readers don't have accounts, so you may want to check this for updates a bit more. Hope this doesn't inconvenience anyone.**

**Anyway, be back soon.**

**Katara**


	6. Chapter 6: Forging Pathways

**Black and Red Chapter 6 Forging Pathways**

Babs Gordon didn't go straight to bed. Instead, she hung around, listening as her dad went into the guest room given to Rob Jackson. "What have you been saying to my daughter?" he said, suspiciously.

"I've been teaching her computer programming. She'll be very good at it. And I've found it to be very useful," Rob replied.

Dad went into the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Babs snuck forwards to keep listening. "-Some prelude to pulling her out at night," he was saying.

"Sir, I assure you," Rob replied, his voice even. "I have no intention of taking an untrained child with no true motivation as a partner. I don't have the right to make that kind of decision for her."

"But you would under some circumstances?" Dad asked suspiciously.

"If she decided to go out herself, and I couldn't talk her out of it, then yes, I'd take her as my junior partner. It would be the only way to keep her alive."

Rob sounded cold and distant, shockingly blunt. "You'd teach my daughter to be a soldier?!" Dad exclaimed.

"No, of course not," Rob replied, exasperated. "I'd help her live. Teach her to be the best she could be. And if she doesn't have what it takes, I'd strongly encourage her to give in and stay home."

"You'd let her risk her life for your strange vigilantism?"

"What would you want be to do; lock her up? Turn her in? Besides, if she has the desire, the drive, I'd be a hypocrite to refuse." Rob paused. "But I won't encourage her. I won't mention it, I won't suggest it. She'll have to come to the decision herself. I don't think you understand me. It's not a decision I can make for her, either way. I can't force her out, I can't keep her in. It's her choice. But it's not one I'll let her take lightly."

"If she does decide, will you- will you-" Dad seemed to almost be choking.

"I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe," Rob answered gently. "But…you'll want plausible deniability. I'm sorry. I know this must be difficult for you to accept."

"You could say that," Dad replied. The door opened, and Babs fled back to her bedroom before he could catch her eavesdropping.

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Rob disappeared into the guest room after breakfast, and Babs followed, hoping to find out what he and Dad had meant the previous night about risking her life and being taken as a partner. Rob sat among the various computer components, carefully clipping out pieces of circuitry from a motherboard. "Rob?" Babs asked tentatively.

"Good morning, Barbara," he said, looking up at her momentarily. He reached out and picked up a thick book from beside the bed. "I got this for you."

"Thanks." She took the book, looking uncertainly at the older boy. "Umm…"

"Yes?"

"Who _are_ you?" she blurted, embarrassed.

Rob cocked his head slightly. "Later," he said. "I'd really quite like to finish this. You read that, and we'll talk after lunch."

She glanced down at the book in her hands, seeing it was an introduction to C++, in a plastic covering with a library filing sticker on the spine. She opened it and glanced down the column of return-by stamps. "You stole this from the library?" she asked.

"Borrowed," Rob corrected. "You _borrow_ books from libraries."

"The last date stamp says last week."

Rob hmm'ed. "I may have unofficially borrowed it," he admitted. "But it will go back, okay?"

Babs grinned. "Sure," she replied, and left him to his hardware.

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The 'new' computer had a base two inches thick, with a full keyboard, number pad and mouse-pad sticking out the top and a screen from an old laptop. It really looked quite ugly, and sat on the floor next to the socket it was plugged in to, the cooling system chugging away. Babs stared, wondering if it actually worked. She voiced the question.

"Well, not perfectly. Not too brilliantly at all, actually," Rob replied. "It's got basic function. It's a start." He then started quizzing her on what she'd read about all morning, eventually stopping when she admitted ignorance for the third time. "You're doing great," he told her. "Keep it up, and you'll be an expert in no time."

Babs blushed at the fairly obvious exaggeration, but still felt pleased. "Thanks. Can we talk now?"

Rob nodded, sitting at the foot of the bed and gesturing for her to join him. "If you wish. What do you think of Batman?"

"He's a good man," she replied without thinking. Biting her lip, she elaborated. "He's scary, but brave. He deserves better."

Rob nodded to himself. "Let me tell you a story. There was once a man who was hurt in a very special way. He decided to fight crime to make up for it. As criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot, he decided to become a bat."

"Batman?" Babs whispered. Rob nodded.

"The same. Now, time passed, and soon Batman found himself caring for a child, a boy. This boy insisted on joining him in the Mission, and took the name Robin. Some years later, a girl, styling herself Batgirl, joined them."

Babs furrowed her brow; none of this made sense. There was no Robin, or Batgirl. Batman hadn't been around that many years.

Rob picked up on her confusion. "You'll understand soon enough," he said, and continued his narrative. "Robin was growing up, so he moved away from Batman somewhat and changed his name to Nightwing. Before long, another boy was Robin. Robin Two.

"Batgirl was forced to retire. An information broker, called Oracle, made contact, and started helping Batman gather data and keep track of what happened where and when. Then Robin Two was killed in action."

Babs looked at the floor. She knew Batman couldn't save everybody; but his own partner? Just a boy? What had gone so wrong that _that_ was the result? It was almost incomprehensible.

Rob closed his eyes, sounding slightly pained. "It had a devastating effect on Batman. He became reckless, picking up injuries far more often. A little boy, who'd known who Batman was for some time, noticed this, and covertly helped Batman and Nightwing reconcile. This triggered a chain of events that led to the boy becoming Robin Three.

"A petty thief, styling himself as Cluemaster, finished serving his sentence, and upon his release immediately started plotting his next crime. Furious at Cluemaster's lack of regard for his family, his daughter set out to foil his plans as Spoiler. Eventually, she was accepted as one of Batman's partners, working closely with Robin on many occasions.

"A disaster hit Gotham. During the recovery, a master assassin received a contract for a hit on a public figure. He ran into a stumbling block in the form of his daughter, who'd fled his custody after her first hit aged five. The girl aided Batman in seeing off her father, and became Batgirl Two.

"Time passed. Robin Two reappeared, resurrected and driven half-insane. He called himself Red Hood, and took vigilantism to fatal levels. He also had a grudge against Robin Three for 'replacing' him. They fought on several occasions.

"And then Batman disappeared. There was much conflict in Gotham, as the criminals got wind of the fact the Bat was no longer around. When the dust settled, Nightwing had become Batman. Unable to see Robin Three as his sidekick, he instead asked the son of Batman to be Robin Four. Robin Three took the name Red Robin, and left in search of his mentor.

"Batgirl Two gave her suit and name to Spoiler, in the hopes it would lead Spoiler to fulfil her full potential. Shortly after, Red Robin persuaded her to return to the fold, and she took the name Black Bat.

"Batman, the first Batman, returned. He initially found it difficult to work with his son, so Nightwing stayed as Batman for a short time, teaching Robin Four while Batman checked up on his other partners. When he returned to Gotham, Nightwing returned to his own name, but kept working closely with Batman and Robin, as did Red Robin. Batgirl Three worked under Oracle's tutelage, and Black Bat chose to spend some time away from Gotham in Hong Kong.

"Soon after, a particularly bad fight led to Red Hood reconciling with his former partner, and re-joining him. Batgirl One announced her intention to come out of retirement. Spoiler willingly stepped back, yielding the name to its former holder.

"Then one night, Red Robin accidentally got caught in an explosion, which catapulted him through dimensions, and landed him on an Earth, similar yet different from his own…"

Rob's melodic voice tailed off, and Babs snapped out of the almost-trance his narrative had put her in. "That's you?" she asked. "You're Red Robin?" The implications slowly sank in, his earlier question making perfect sense. "You're Batman's partner."

**AN: I'm so sorry this is late! Almost twenty-four hours late; sorry. There's various reasons; the other chapter I'm publishing was hard to write, I've been busy lately, etc. I'll try to be better in future.**

**A lot of you have been asking for Tim/Bruce interaction. I'm kinda going with how Bruce was at the beginning of _Dark Knight Rises_, so he won't really be popping 'round for coffee. He will turn up, though. At some point. Just be patient, 'kay?_  
_**

**Ehm, as usual, the whole review-questions-please-please-please shebang. You should know what to do. Please don't be bashful about it.**

**Back to Little Bird's Vengeance next week. Tim's sick, and hanging around Avengers Tower. Back to this in a few weeks.**

**Katara**


	7. Chapter 7: What's It Like?

**Black and Red Chapter 7**

Tim ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he'd revealed too much. But he'd had Babs' keen, sharply intelligent voice in his ear for too long not to trust it. Being with her, so many secrets separating them, seemed too unnatural. Besides, he wasn't revealing anything that would endanger this world's Batman, and he _really_ wanted Oracle's help. Having Tim doubt himself here is a good idea. It kind of balances out the excessive gushing about his history.

Babs hadn't said anything since working out his profession. She kept shooting him nervous glances through her eyelashes. Unwilling to press her, he kept tinkering with his homemade computer, waiting.

"What's it like?" she asked eventually. "Working for Batman."

"With him," he corrected gently, setting aside the circuit board. "It's…different. Fairly intense. We have to be ready to go pretty much all the time, and quiet nights in are few and far between. Even when we're not out, we're still working on long term projects and stuff. Out patrolling almost every night. We see the worst of humanity, and find the best within each other."

"Wow," Babs murmured, looking slightly star-struck. "But, what does it _feel _like?"

Tim frowned, considering. "It feels like a lot of responsibility. When we're out there, there's replace word: there're lives in our hands. Not just victims, but because if we're clumsy, unfocused, or lose control, we could end up seriously harming people instead of just stopping them. It's a little frightening, thinking of how much damage we could do."

"If it scares you, then..." Babs tilted her head quizzically

"Well, of course it's scary, and risky. But it also feels _right_. When we keep ourselves and each other in check, when we see how many lives we've saved, we know we're needed. You've seen Joker; he's the worst, but there's more kind of like him. Time and again, we're fighting for the innocent."

"What got you started?"

"For me, it was a simple matter. If I hadn't gone out when I did, that first time, Batman and Nightwing would have died. And we've all lost a lot to crime, one way or another. It motivates us."

"'Lost a lot'?" Babs asked, fascinated, before realising it would be a sensitive topic and ducking her head. "Sorry, it's just- With Joker around…Did he, or someone like him I mean…did you lose someone?"

"Not…exactly. But yeah." Tim pursed his lips, judging what to reveal. "Black Bat and Robin were initially raised by assassins. Spoiler's father's a part-time resident of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. My own parents turned out to be crooks, found that out after a deal went wrong and they got a hit on them. Most of what we do is trying to stop other people losing to crime."

"Your parents were crooks?" Babs breathed, looking shocked.

Tim shrugged. "It happens. I don't like thinking about it."

"Sorry." She ducked her head, looking properly contrite. Then she flicked her gaze up again. "So…you don't have any family?"

"Of course I do. Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, we're family. There's a reason why soldiers fighting next to each other are called 'brothers in arms'."

"Guessing you mean Batman's kinda like a father?" Babs smirked slightly.

Tim grinned. "You wouldn't think it, but yeah, he's the best I could have."

"And…three brothers, three sisters?"

"Not quite. Batgirl's more like a sister-in-law, I swear Nightwing's gonna pop the question one of these days-" Babs giggled, and Tim grinned again, more than enjoying the fact she has laughing at her own counterpart's probable imminent engagement. "And Spoiler and I have been dating on and off since we were twelve."

"She's your girlfriend?"

Tim paused before answering. There seemed to be more than simple inquiry behind the question. Her body language read disappointment, and Tim remembered once overhearing his world's Babs chatting to Steph and Cass, talking about how she loved the contrast between Dick's black hair and blue eyes. He guessed that, in Dick's absence, she'd picked up an attraction towards him instead. He mentally sighed, twisting slightly so his position in relation to her was just a little more obviously chaste, drawing his knees slightly closed to his chest. He liked Babs; he liked Batgirl; the affection was flattering; but…

"Yes, Spoiler's my girlfriend," he confirmed. "We have a lot in common. You know, running around rooftops, beating up bad guys…"

"Oh," Babs said in a small voice.

"When I finish making this thing, it'll need programming," Tim said, changing the subject. "I've got to wipe it to get the different parts to integrate. Want to get your notebook and we can discuss creating an operating system from scratch?"

"Okay then." Babs jumped up, but stopped at the door, turning back. "Rob? Where did Batman go? Ours, I mean, not yours."

Tim sighed, thinking back to his research the previous night. Bruce Wayne had recently shown a new interest in his company. Looking back through the articles, he'd found a record of a speech Bruce had given at a fund raiser for Harvey Dent, which was subsequently gate-crashed by Joker. In the speech, he'd mentioned a great friendship for one Rachel Dawes. The same Rachel Dawes who'd died only a few days later. Knowing Bruce's tendency to excess grief, it wasn't hard to guess what had happened.

"I don't know," he said at last. "In my world, Batman never…retreated, as such. But, I found indications that he lost someone close during Joker's rampage. Combined with the corruption of Dent, the widespread speculation that the whole thing was aimed at him…I think it demoralized him somewhat."

"Will he be back?"

"I can't say."

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Hours later, the plans for the new operating system were done, the computer itself was nearly finished, and Commissioner Gordon was telling his daughter to go to bed. "Five minutes!" she pleaded. Tim chuckled, hearing the put-upon father sighing and giving in.

"It must be nice, not to have to go to bed early," Babs grumbled. "What _do_ you do at night?"

"Well, tonight I was going to sneak out and patrol," Tim answered, stretching. "I'm sure I'll find something to do."

"Sounds fun," Babs said wistfully.

Tim smirked. Fiddling with the arm-belt hidden beneath his borrowed navy shirt, he pulled out his spare comm, flicking it over and slipping his own into his ear. "Large button on the side," he said. "That opens all-channels. I can teach you the details later."

Babs tentatively placed the tiny device in her ear, tapped the button, and frowned. "I can't hear anything," she said.

"You sure?" Tim asked.

Babs jumped slightly at the voice in her ear. "That's really cool."

"I'll give you a run-by as I go," he promised.

She threw her arms around his waist in a hug. "Thank you!"

Tim gently disentangled her. "Your dad will be calling again in a moment."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Tim glanced down guiltily. "You'll probably work it out…" he admitted. "I have the greatest respect for your character and intellectual ability."

"Uh…"

Before she could form a question, the Commissioner hurried her away to bed, leaving Tim to frown after her, before suiting up and heading out.

**AN: Finally, Timmy's getting out there! And Babs is learning a thing or two as well.**

**As usual, reviews greatly desired, questions willingly accepted, yada yada. Back to LBV next week.**

**See you in a few weeks.**

**Katara**


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